Tagged: Juan Miranda

Well, the week from Hell is over. Well, almost over. We’ll make it out alive. Not exactly sane, but we’ll still be breathing.

I’m not talking about the Yankees, of course. They’ll definitely be alive. The Yankees are in a good place. 25-16 is a good record to have in May.

I’m talking about Yankees fans.

Show of hands, how many of you have ulcers after this week? *raises hand*

Now, how many of you have ulcers that developed their own ulcers because of this week? *raises hand*

We knew ahead of time that this week was going to be the most difficult week yet. We faced two of our division rivals. First, the Red Sox, who magically seem to find their strengths against us. Then, the Tampa Bay Rays, who are hotter than hot right now. I was nervous going into this week. I honestly expected us to sweep the Red Sox, and get swept by the Rays. Well, I was half-right.

Anyway, what an emotionally exhausting week. Oh but
it’s not over! We face our inner-city rivals next! If we don’t beat the Mets, I’ll have to beat something. Probably to a bloody pulp.

*Meet the Mess. Meet the Mets. Step right up and beat the Mets!*

Listen, I’m the Queen of Cool and Calm when looking at the big picture. I don’t panic until our elimination number is in the single digits, and we’re on a losing streak in September. So don’t worry, I’m looking at the big picture here.

We’ve been suffering through a lot of injuries, and our bench is pretty much depleted. We called up Chad Moeller to be our backup catcher while Posada is out. Basically, Chad Moeller will be warming the bench for the vast majority of the next month. Nick Swisher is back, so at least we won’t have to suffer through Marcus Thames in right field anymore.

I wonder how Marcus “Dumb*ss Of The Year” Thames is doing? *Who gets hurt like that? Really? Who does that?!*

While I do see, and appreciate, the big picture, weeks like this week hurt. It’s not easy to endure losses like these, as a fan.

You know what? I’m not going to write about this game. I’m sick of repeating the same thing I’ve said about every other game this week…

It’s only May. *blah blah blah* He was due for a bad start. *blah blah* We knew he wouldn’t win every game this season. *blah* Randy [expletive] Winn *blah blah* These injuries are killing us *BLAH*

What’s the point of repeating myself? You’ve heard it all before, so why should I say it again? Do I really need to recap this game for you? Look at the damn boxscore, it says it all.

We failed once again, boys and girls. I usually try to find excuses for our players sucking in a game, and these excuses are usually legitimate. I just believe in giving your players the benefit of the doubt. Especially the team that we have this year. You know what, though? They’ve already given me enough ulcers to warrant some sort of negative reaction from me.

So, in this post, I will step out of character for a bit, and just make fun of every player who played in this game. I will roast them one by one. Just talk trash to them. That should make me feel better.

Before I begin, let me make it very clear that NONE OF THIS is to be taken seriously. I love our players, and I love our team. This is just a way for me to let my frustration out.

Roasted nuts, anyone?

Andy Pettitte: I used to say “Andy can Pettitte”, but the only thing you should be petting is your toupee at the retirement home. Way to show us you’re not aging, grandpa. Stop hitting me with your cane! I’m getting off of your stupid lawn! Tell your Bridge partner Jamie Moyer to stop shouting at me, I’m not stealing his paper!

Derek Jeter: Captain Clutch? Yeah, not so much. If Minka isn’t clutching it right, give Kate Hudson a call. I hear she’s available. Do it soon before Dallas Braden calls her, and she dies of laughter.

Brett Gardner: You used to remind me of Speedy Gonzales. Now, you’re like that mouse who drew the short straw to decide on who should run in front of the cat, to get to the cheese factory. Like the mouse with the short straw, you got caught.

Mark Teixeira: Your haircut doesn’t make you look like a switch-hitter, it makes you look like you flat-out bat for the other team. Those bangs must be getting in your eyes, because you can’t seem to tell the difference between a ball and a strike anymore. Call Fabio, or whoever the Hell your San Fransisco-esque hairdresser is, and tell him that Papelbon came onto you after the Red Sox game, thinking you were his type. That hairstyle has got to go.

Alex Rodriguez: Maybe you should give your cousin in the Dominican Republic a call…

Robinson Cano: Maybe you should conference call with A-Rod and his cousin…

Nick Swisher: Last I checked, you can’t hit the ball with your awesome attitude. So stop clowning around, and start getting some damn hits. I don’t care who you’re with or how awesome your hair is. Get some damn hits. Stop staying up late, talking to people on Twitter. Unless these people will hit home runs for you, GET SOME SLEEP!

Juan Miranda: You’re actually productive, but I have to roast you like I did the others. So… you make “DH” stand for “D*ck Head”.

Francisco Cervelli: Okay, that helmet was cute in Spring Training, but now you look like you should be licking short-bus windows. Need a towel to wipe the drool? Fasten your chin strap, Frankie! Stop hitting solid objects with your head, Frankie! Oy. We need a bigger helmet.

Randy Winn: You’re Randy Winn.

David Robertson: So nice of you to join us. I’m so sorry that our little pesky baseball season interrupted your vacation from pitching. Obviously you were taking a break from it all in April, and half of May. The drunk, cross-dressing homeless man, who wanders around near my office building, could have pitched better than you in the first month-and-a-half of the season. I know you miss having Spring Break, but please try to do your job when you’re on the mound.

Chan Ho Park: I thought you got over your diarrhea weeks ago. Why are you still crapping your pants every time you step on the mound? It really stinks, Chopper. I’m not sure if something was “lost in translation” but, in America, when we say “give them sh*t”, we mean give them a hard time. We don’t mean “crap your pants and act like a drunken monkey flinging feces”. Actually, I’ve seen monkeys fling poo with more accuracy than your pitches. Get your sh*t right, Chan Ho. Chug a bottle of Pepto-Bismol before each game.

***

There, like Chan Ho Park’s lunch, that crap is out of my system. Now, I open the floor to you, my loyal readers. If you feel frustrated with the loss, and would like to roast some players, feel free to do so in my comments section underneath this blog post. THIS IS ALL FOR FUN! So don’t take it too seriously, and don’t be offended. We all love our Yankees.